


Seraphina

by AugustRiddle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Death, Diary, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elven, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Haven, Journal, OC, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Refugee, Romance, Sexual Tension, Skyhold, Violence, augustriddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustRiddle/pseuds/AugustRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The greatest stories ever told doesn't always need a majestic storyteller, sometimes, it only takes a girl and her diary in the wrong place at the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Month, The First Day; Haven

* * *

  **SERAPHINA**

From the writings of Seraphina Avray of Lothering.  
Survivor of the Fifth Blight and refugee of the Mage-Templar War.

* * *

**_The First Month, The First Day; Haven_ **

* * *

 

  _I guess now's best to write than ever._

_After we got to Haven - safe and sound at that, mind you (Fendrel, that stupid bloke, found to break his knee on the way but nothing too drastic). Redcliffe's a town of hell after those magister blokes came. I don't know why they're there, really, or why the Grand Enchanter took the chance with Tevinter. Are they crazy? Well, they're a pack of people who could turn into abominations - of course they're bloody crazy! Maker preserve me, I don't know what's got into everyone. I just want to live. I thought, for the good few months, that after Lothering was over and the moving we've done over the years - Redcliffe would keep us safe. The Arl was a nice man who acted on good cause, but those damned mages always seem to get in the way and get what they want!_

_Queen Anora... I don't know about her, I dare not speak of her so rashly, not here. There's a choking amount of people in this place who love Loghain - ah, that quartermaster, her name escapes me - loves Loghain. My parents hate Loghain, so I think I hate Loghain too. Fendrel says that he did what he had to do, but Fendrel always says some crazy things. I wager that's why people are always weird around him, calling him a "bloody knife ear" or some sort of that. He's an elf, but he's my brother. I'm human - my parents are human, but he's my brother. I don't question family._

_Haven's a weird place. A nice kind of weird. Lots of nice people (apart from them Loghain people as they get kind of scary), and all of them are mostly like me: Refugees. The Herald, they say, is a mage. A lady mage. I've got me some share of mages in Redcliffe, and the Herald as a mage is just... I don't know... Unsettling? Templars make me feel a little queasy as well, but apparently they're alright with the Herald. They say the Inquisition saved them in the temple, and the Order, the funny people that they are - they're not joining them soon. I hate this. I hate the war. I hate this bloody diary._

_What's good in this diary anyway? It's frightening how much I'm writing on this page. I hate this notebook, and I've only started. Mother said I should keep a diary because of the war, some sort of relic or memoir to pass on my grandkids. My mother's a weird optimist. She said this Breach was history, and the Herald was a movement to the new change. She supposed I should write about myself and what I see, but all I feel like doing right now is to complain. The war's been hard on everyone, and I want my life back. I want to go home to Lothering, I want to play with Hawke and Carver like when I was younger. But things are different now, they're somewhere doing great things. I'm... Just me... Seraphina._

_Yes, that's my name. Seraphina. It's not so pretty, isn't it? I thought so too. I don't like it so much, but Hawke's mother always thought it pretty. She said it reminded her of a garden flower, but I hate gardens and flowers don't grow in places where Darkspawn lie. Fendrel says I'm being too negative, but what is so good about this life right now? There's a hole in the sky, and the Divine is dead. The Chantry claims to do the Maker's work, but then they condemn the Inquisition. People in higher places are so confusing, really._

_There's a pretty redhead who sits outside the Haven Chantry, and sometimes when I get things for mother, I see her talking to people in whispers. They say she's Sister Leliana, the Nightingale, Hand of the Divine. She's a spooky one, but I feel like she's a nice lady. A lot of people seem to respect her. The Herald was out since two nights ago, apparently had bargained with the Chantry a week before we came in at Val Royeaux after they established the Inquisition._

_I find that strange. They say she doesn't believe in the Maker (a bold claim, mind you, and scary), and now she's bargaining for the Chantry. What a hypocrite! That nice dwarf with the chest hair - Varric, I think? - he said the Herald was forced by Seeker Pentaghast._

_Commander Cullen of the nice troops that walked with us to Haven when we left Redcliffe, that nice handsome man, has been trying to keep Chancellor Roderick out of the gates. I wonder what they're hiding there in behind those Chantry doors? Varric says it's just loads of paper and boring talk, but Fendrel says he saw a big map on a table once when he tried to sneak. For some reason, I believe him._

_Fendrel's been cheeky. There's this bald apostate elf who sits by a cottage by the apothecary, and Fendrel has been hanging out with his sort ever since we came here. Apparently, that elf mage apostate's the one the Herald's been with a lot in her adventures. Fendrel says the mage elf sleeps and talks to demons in the Fade. Mother doesn't like him hanging around with the mage elf, because all mages are dangerous. I know she's right. That's why there's templars around - right? But if mages are dangerous, then why is the Herald with the Inquisition? Because she can close that hole in the sky?_

_How she got it, why she got it, is creepy and beyond me. Magic is scary, and Bethany Hawke is the only mage I'll never be afraid of. I suppose I should go help mother with the soup for Varric. We have been using his campfire, and it's embarrassing not to give him some Lothering courtesy._

****


	2. The First Month, The Fourth Day; Haven

 

* * *

_** The First Month, The Fourth Day; Haven ** _

* * *

 

_ Mother said I should write everyday. I said I'll try. I asked why Fendrel doesn't write in a  diary, and she only gave me a look. I see nothing wrong with the question.... _

_ But I saw her! I finally saw her! The Herald! She... She is not what I imagined. From all the stories I've been hearing around from the oher refugees, they told me she was a Circle mage -- a human noble from the Free Marches. A Marcher! I wonder if she met Hawke? Kirkwall is in the Free Marches, maybe... Maybe she did? I hope. Hawke's holding in high places in Kirkwall. A woman from the Lothering! One of the high people! I applaud my pride for my small, damned village. We get to high places eventually. Hawke did. Anyways, the Herald, she... She's tall. Mighty tall (Fendrel says I'm just shorter, that blasted man). She has this long, deep black hair and bright eyes that glitter. Glitter! They sparkle like snowfall, and her gaze was just as cold.  _

_ When I thought of a Circle Mage, I always thought of someone who looked like the Grand Enchanter. You know, with the long classic robes and the kept hair? The Herald... Well... She's rather stylish. She dresses in nicer things, but not like the Orlesian sort. Functional, I suppose, with leather and cotton in the layers. I saw her hand glow green at times, green as the Breach in the sky. She could close the rifts too, Fendrel told me (the apostate elf he's been talking to know a lot of things, apparently his name is Solas) her powers are more than any mage could only imagine. Scary. I'm frightened of the Herald, yet people seem to admire her. _

_ Fendrel's eyes have been wandering. I've been watching that blasted man for a good long time. He's got his eyes on her buttocks! Right there, eyes glued like they've got sticky ends. I remember it so clearly. He has no shame -- that no good bastard. I blushed for his cause, my cheeks all red and itchy, embarrassed for his bones. I looked at the Herald for a moment, then at those buttocks that Fendrel's been taken with so much. They were curved nice and round, swaying wherever she walked. I could see why Fendrel's got himself fixed -- even I, for the shame of me, have been staring there for the time I had. I shook my head away. What in Maker's Earth was I doing? She's a woman, just like me, and I should never be looking.  _

_ Mother likes to distract me when I watch the Herald, keeping me busy with all the chores she could find. Father's been helping the apothecary with his brews (my father knew some brews), and Fendrel's off being Fendrel. That leaves me alone with all the responsibility, everything that Fendrel and my father escaped from -- I do it, unfortunately. But when I can, I watch the Herald when she's out and about talking to everyone. Like me, she would sit hours talking to Varric, talking about everything that I wish I knew. Varric seems to be unafraid of her, bold and comfortable even though she's a mage. I wonder how he does it, how he becomes so fearless of magic. Fearless of her.  _

_ Despite the strong face she has, the Herald seems approachable, but it doesn't mean I would go on and talk to her. She still frightens me, but Fendrel said she's quite friendly. Of course, that bloke would go and try to talk to the Herald without fear -- that's how he gets his bruises from those blokes who would box his ears! He would go off, talking to everyone and uncaring about all the people that were out to eat him alive. He's making me worried. But the Herald never done a thing to harm him.  _

_ Oh, but you know something saucy? Sometimes when I check the stables and feed the horses for Master Dennet,  I see the Herald talk to Seeker Pentaghast (not the friendly kind of sort, you could see things boil hot miles away), and then I see Commander Cullen sliding a glance through the narrow aisles of camp tents. It was a curious glance, but I swear to Andraste he was looking at her -- looking at the Herald, silently and to himself. I wonder what he thinks of her. I hear he was a templar at Kirkwall, and fought alongside Hawke against his own Knight-Commander. A brave man, but he's still a templar. Templars contain mages, and I wonder how's it like working together on equal footing with someone with something you used to contain. How weird.  _

_ I bet you, he stares at her buttocks too. I fancy the thought of the Commander being a perverted sort, it just seems his kind of work. The training area for the army's scarce of women like the Herald. She's just got the form for it. Damned nobles.  _

_ Fendrel returned with a blood lotus. He says they were for me. Was that really a kind gesture? I can't help but think he's tricking me. Mother says he was being sweet and nice. Sweet? Fendrel? Maker preserve me. He's plotting something, and that smirk of his is not fooling me.  _

_ Ah! I saw it again. He glanced at her. I can't help but think that Commander is a sly bit of shy. I wonder if he's as frightened of her as I am, or if he's secretly plotting to kill her! Anything is possible. Like how the Grand Enchanter apparently approached the Herald asking for help  when they're already tied to Redcliffe. It's a murky story, but I swore to everyone who asked me of Redcliffe that the mages were all under Tevinter hold for as long as I can remember. Even Varric couldn't believe me (ironically, especially with the liar that he was), because everyone who went to Val Royeaux with the Herald the week before we came swore that they saw the Grand Enchanter offer them an alliance.  _

_ I say that's impossible. Why would they do that when they're already with Tevinter? Weird. _


	3. The First Month, The Fifth Day; Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are wondering, Seraphina's dating system is based on how long she's been with the Inquisition. Hence, the unnamed months and days. With "First Month" being her first month with the Inquisition, regardless of whatever month it is. But the date, however, is based on its calendar number. So, "First Month, The Fifth Day" is the fifth day of that month. Since the timeline of Inquisition is not set into stone by Bioware, I'm keeping the specific dates pretty open ended.

* * *

 

Ambassador Montilyet,

Your words have touched me, and I really am - more than honoured - to be the very person who will publish this record of the Inquisition. However, based on my own confidence in the ethics of my profession, I cannot send these back your way for review. Why? First, for the more obvious reason: it is not your personal property. Lady Avray, by the sincere recommendation Varric Tethras, approached me by her own genuine actions with the intention to have this published. Second, with your line of work and based on my own experiences, you will - without a doubt - be taking entries you have not found to reflect the Inquisition in a positive way.

I understand that you have responsibilities, and we are similar in this fashion. As you have an image to maintain (and with Lady Avray's role as apothecary), I have a truth to give away. An account as unique as Lady Avray's, even with my own terms of editing, should maintain a standard of authenticity. This includes the exclusion of your involvement, for I wish to read her story in its purest form. But in consideration of your kind formality, I will attempt by best to keep the Inquisition's image favourable when I have finally arranged these writings to my liking. I cannot promise anything, however. I hope Varric has told you of my love for scandal.

Attached with this letter (which I have entrusted to your "very trustworthy" messenger), is the empty bottle of Antivan Brandy you have sent with regards to your first letter. I have enjoyed the delicacy, thank you, but I am not so easily swayed.

Editor Belmis

 

* * *

_**The First Month, The Fifth Day; Haven** _

* * *

 

_Ha! I've wrote on the next day without forgetting._

_Well in truth, there's no one really to talk to around this place. Sure, there's lots of people, but they are all so busy and afraid. The Herald was gone again, she left at midnight for the Hinterlands and I don't know when she's coming back. No one knows when she comes back. The healer tells me that when she does, she's always suffered some casualties, but nothing that her magic cannot ease temporarily until she gets to Haven. Healing magic must be handy for those mages, maybe that's why Templars fight in armour. A mage can recover, but a templar cannot. The battle was never fair. People are stupid._

_The Herald took Varric with her for this trip, and really, I've no one to talk to. Fendrel's apostate friend, Solas (he calls the mage elf his "Elven Friend" - with admiration too! I wonder if it's because that mage elf is respected by the Inquisition...), is gone with the Herald too. She took all of them, all of the people she needed. How cruel of her, but there are so much things that needed to be done. The Inquisition has been running for a good six months, and the troops are increasing in size. Refugees in all shapes and forms march in the Commander's office to pledge their lives in service, and he trains them of course. He trains them well. But they don't learn that good, or work that fast._

_Fendrel's told me he wants to be part of the Inquisition's army one day, but mother - just like the way she does - gives him this frowning look. She's worried about Fendrel, I know, but the Commander seems like he won't be hurting nobody except the enemy. The Inquisition is a force beyond the generation. Different people, unlikely people, working for the hole in the sky. Andraste preserve me, there's even a Qunari in this camp! Not just any Qunari, the leader of the Chargers! Yes, I've heard little tales of them. They've been around Redcliffe once, but only outside of it. The Arl's never going to let them in without special condition._

_The Herald hired them for their cause. The diplomat, strangely, seems okay with managing such expensive coin. Is this Inquisition worth pounds of coin? Damned nobles..._

_The diplomat... Well, she's a friendly lady. Her name is Josephine Montilyet, and Antivan in the flesh. There is something about Antivan folk that makes them like they are. I told her I found the Herald scary, something which mother told me to speak in caution, but the diplomat only smiled at me. Not the bad kind. She told me the Herald is mighty nice, and that their families are friendly. Blasted nobles and their lives - they all seem like a huge family. All connected in blood, land, or friendship. I wager that's why Josephine is a diplomat._

 

* * *

 

_Sorry for the pause, but mother told me to look for Fendrel. I did find him, though, he was holed up in Commander Cullen's camp trying to volunteer. Even without mother's hesitance, he is able to volunteer as part of the troops. He's lots of years ahead of me, four to be exact, as I am on my sixteenth year and him on his twentieth. When I marched into place, the Commander seemed to welcome the idea, but I had to stop that madness before mother finds us out._

_"Fendrel!" I told him, pulling him back, "Fendrel, mother won't like it. Come, just stay. You know what mother says about what happens in war..."_

_Commander Cullen had a curious look at the both of us, making some silent talk his head. I swear, even if he's the nice man that he is (and commanding like a real good general, it's quite a sight), that man must talk to himself a lot. There's a quiet nature about him, and I don't know how I'm able to write that so boldly, but I guess it's what they call a 'Woman's Intuition', or some bloody rubbish my mother would have said._

_The Commander is really handsome._

_"He's my brother." I told the commander. I know what it looks like to him, because Fendrel and I are nothing alike. Even in race! He's an elf, I'm a normal human, and he's my brother. "A bloody annoying one, mind you."_

_"Ah, of course."_

_The Commander is poor with his words, I can see him trying to piece out the figures within himself. He personally welcomed my family when we arrived in Haven as we were the only ones who came straight from Redcliffe, and I'm sure he remembers that well. How is it that a completely human family has an elven son? Mind you, it bothers me at times, but like I said, I don't question family and I never will._

_Makes me wonder how in Maker's earth does that man talk to the Herald? I might be a Lothering girl who lived her life in a small town, but I'm not much a petty fool when it comes to these kinds of sorts. He's a shy little thing, that Commander, I can see it in his eyes. He hides so much underneath all that fur (he wears such exquisite things), a quiet man in the midst of all the women that ran the Inquisition. I imagine he gets buried underneath the conversations. Seeker Pentaghast's a hardy woman, Lady Josephine is a noble charmer, Sister Nightingale is crafty, and the Herald - whatever character she is - must be quite the lady mage as well._

_Anyways, Fendrel's getting it from father. He's not too pleased with his stunts. I warned him, but that Fendrel was always a rebel. I wager that's why mother invests so much to keep me refined, but I don't know so much about that either. What am I, really? If Fendrel's the arse that he was, what's me? Am I just like him, but slightly better? I don't know any better, than do away from the cheeky things Fendrel does._

_I'm sitting by the gates, away from Fendrel and father, and watching the Commander train his little camp of soldiers waving their swords here and there. I wonder how that Commander fills his days? He's seldom gone, leaves and returns quicker than the Herald at most - usually within the day, or overnight. At least in my few days of stay here in Haven. Maybe he's gone longer before, I don't know. I've no one to talk to much, and usually them refugees only talk so little and usually it's for gossip. I've no real friends here (except for Varric, I suppose), while Fendrel's already made a handful. Though he sits with that Solas for an awful lot of time, he chats a lot with others of his age. Elf or human, they talk to him._

_People think I'd have more friends that Fendrel, they're bloody wrong. That blasted elf might be an idiot, but I've to compliment his ability to make friends. Don't tell him I said that, especially when he's told me that the reason why I've got so little friends is because I look grumpy. Grumpy! ("Like an old witch in the woods!" He said to me once. I punched the candles out of him.)_

_I just hope the Herald returns, and quickly, with what she's taken from me. I miss Varric, I miss his stories, and I hate this boredom. I don't like the chores I have to do, but I'm the only one to have to do it. Varric made my days easier, even brighter, with amount of shite he can spout out of that mouth of his. It makes me forget, you know? Stories make me forget. About life, about my problems, The Breach, my destroyed home, and the memories of a past I can only dream of. It's a jolly dream, but it's only a dream, and even for a second slight, Varric's taken me there - to his tales of adventure. How I wish they were real. Especially the ones he's made about Hawke. Hawke is truly amazing - from a Lothering girl like me into the Viscount of Kirkwall! How beautiful!_

_Ah, shit! Someone's saw me with my diary. I had to run. I don't know who it was, but in a small glimpse it was some blonde elf girl with a bow on her back. I'm scared. I'm home now. This is so embarrassing. She was peaking from behind me! I wonder how much she's read..._


	4. The First Month, Tenth-Eleventh Day; Haven

* * *

_** The First Month, Tenth-Eleventh Day; Haven ** _

* * *

 

_ Something's happened to me, and I thought... I thought it best to write it down because I don't know how to make of it. _

_ She came looking for me. She wanted to talk to me. Me. The Herald wanted to talk to me. Strange right? Thought so. When she came back from The Hinterlands, she had this weird look that turned some tides. When I was fetching water for mother, I've heard Seeker Pentaghast talking to Sister Leliana about Redcliffe. They've gone to Redcliffe because the Herald wanted the mages to help her, but that bloody Tevinter magister who made things difficult for my parents and Fendrel was making things wobble. That magister, really. I never liked him. His son's a weird thing too -- what was his name? Felix, right -- keeps stumbling like a limp bloke. _

_ I thought I could be as good as Fendrel when sneaking around, but when I turned to run away before they saw me looking, the Herald was in front of me. I screamed on the inside, because I never saw her coming from nowhere. She appeared just like that, out of thin air. Out of nothing -- like the magical thing she was. She had her finger on her lips and told me to keep quiet, before telling me to follow her away from the corner I stood to eavesdrop. Walking with the Herald was... Maker's breath... Scary? Frustrating? Quiet? I know nothing of what she fancied from me, and I'm still afraid of her. She's a mage, but she's not Bethany. She's just a stranger to me. _

_ "You're the Redcliffe girl, aren't you?" she asked me, after we walked some distance away from where I stood. Her voice was deep, slightly husky, and had that Marcher accent going about. Nothing too Fereldan with that sort of lady. "A sneaky one as well." _

_ I told her I was, and she nodded quietly. Maker, she made me nervous. I thought to run away, but with her magic, that would be no good. _

_ "Commander Cullen has told me that your family was the only family who escaped out of Redcliffe as of recent." _

_ "What's it got to do with anything?" I thought to be honest, for us refugees come in everyday. I'm nothing of a special sort, I just want life back. The ordinary kind. The simple village life in Lothering I've missed so much . _

_ "It seems you are going to be the only one who can answer my questions." _

_ "What questions?" _

_ "About Redcliffe." She spoke like the noble that she was, worded and educated like them Circle Mages should always be. _

_ The Herald then told me about the Grand Enchanter. How the lady supposed to invite her to Redcliffe, and when she decided to help that lot, the Grand Enchanter has got no memory of ever stepping into that foot. It's confusing, and it hurts my head just thinking of it. I convinced the Herald that Redcliffe was in Tevinter hold for some time, even during that time of encounter she spoke of. I told her I tried to explain it to Varric, and all the people that came to ask their silly questions. Redcliffe's always been with Tevinter after them mages came. _

_ She started nodding to herself, her face giving that strange look with her eyebrows in a pinch. Seeing that Herald like this in close encounter got me to get a good look at her face. She was not bad looking, in fact she was -- if I'd be damned -- quite pretty. There was this shade of leadership in her eyes that makes her seem so... Interesting? I wager it's the age that kept her spirits in places. A pretty thing, she was, but her face was not as rough as Seeker Pentaghast's or as gentle as Sister Leliana's. A strange creature, I can't describe her well. She has this face that keeps me... Comfortable? Easy? Must be mage magic. _

_ "It seems he was right." _

_ Who was right? I was confused now. She's got me tangled in her problems, and I can't simply leave. I needed to know why she's asked me of such things. It's common for the likes of her, the Herald, to go around asking things the way she does with me -- but she's asked for Redcliffe, for me, in a rather weird sort of way. _

_ "Who?" _

_ "Ah, What is your name?" _

_ "Seraphina."  I held my anger as I said it. I hate my name. I hate it. _

_ "Just Seraphina?" _

_ "Seraphina Avray of... Lothering."  I spoke of my village with pride, but the Herald never answered my question. _

_ She only smiled, telling me how pretty my name was and how she's never heard nothing like it. I told her I hated it, I hate it so much because of it reminded me of flowers. Ferelden was not a garden to me, not in my whole bloody life, because them places where flowers would have grown I've seen bodies -- dead bodies -- laying all limp and dead from darkspawn. The Herald, when I told her this, thought me to be a morbid young girl. Not in a bad way! Rather she was curious and interested, at least in my eyes, and I'd be damned if she really was. I imagine she's to have lots to think on with the Inquisition and the whole lot about the alliances. _

_ "Does it hurt?" I don't know why I said that, and I remember feeling like falling down and dying. I was still afraid of her, but this... This bloody mouth of mine... I can't shut it, I couldn't. I had to ask. Her hand was sparking green, wild and colourful like that Breach in the sky. _

_ "I've grown numb to it." she told me, her frosty eyes glazed all over her sparking hand, amazed just as much as I was. That Herald sounded so calm, so aware, and so accepting of it -- of that mark, of what it is and the things it could do. I suppose it's a mage thing? Magic was always with them, a new spice to that power would surely make that lot happy. But she was a strong woman to carry that mark around, waving her hand in front of everyone -- even the Chantry, with no fear of what they fear. What we fear. _

_ I wanted to leave, but everything about that woman -- that Herald of Andraste as they like to call her -- kept me there like I'm glued to the feet. This mouth of mine just can't resist to ask. I suppose I was always so curious about the Herald, about who she was and what she was like. Fendrel, although the bloke that he was, has got himself the Maker's balls to go talk to the Herald when I couldn't. I was scared, terrified, and I've want nothing but to keep away. Mother thought it best too, and I agreed. But things were different now because she was looking for me -- she wanted to see me! It was my chance! _

_ "How's it like?" I asked her. I wish I just wasn't so bloody curious, but I am. "Working with the Commander?" _

_ Where and how the Commander came into this brain of mine, I wish I knew. I reckon I was always curious about this -- about them templars and mages. The Inquisitor is a mage, the Commander is templar. They seemed like civil folks towards each other, but what of that burning hatred? Maybe, it's inside them. That boiling hate. A Circle mage and templar -- the scandal! I wish I knew how to shut my bloody mouth. _

_ "He's an able man, proficient in his skill." _

_ I was disappointed in her answer, and she probably could see it in my face. I was no good when it came hiding what I felt, and Fendrel's taken that for granted by making me feel all weird and awkward with his stupid jokes. I just... I expected more -- more hate. Passionate hate? I wager it's because she's a damned noble, and the damned nobles I know are civil to the teeth -- even when they hate your bones and want to kill you. Varric's told me that them Orlesians in Val Royeaux has this nasty thing called "The Game", and suppose if you don't know nothing on playing it, you end up dead and limp. Scary. _

 

* * *

 

_ The Herald left at midnight. _

_ I caught sight of her, all in her robes and her armour with the Iron Bull, Seeker Pentaghast, Varric, and a rather stylish male mage I've never seen before. He's a curious man, that stranger, a looker. Damned to be handsome, charming, and striking with that perfectly kept moustache. It's the girl in me, I tell you, my little and stupid fantasies. I make him sound so handsome, and that he was! I wonder, however, if that stranger mage could best the Commander. Sister Leliana was with them, along with her, some couple of her agents. They moved quietly, discreetly, and I held my breath as I watched. _

_ How do I know this? It's that blasted Fendrel's fault, that's what. He's gone missing again, this time later than even I could measure. He never returned home, that idiot, and even though I've told mother that he's more than capable of walking to our tent -- mother wanted me to go pick him up at the darkness of the night. So silly, isn't it? The damned elf is in his twentieth year -- much older than I -- and yet I've got to find his cheeky little self like his own mother. It was then I've gone to find out that the Herald's planned a late adventure, and I've hidden myself to watch. I can't have that lot picking at my throat thinking I was some sort of spy. _

_ It was almost good, really, I've got them in clear view of what they're doing. Then Fendrel, Andraste preserve me -- I don't know how he's found me -- comes about to scare me to the touch. I screamed, well I tried to, then he covered my mouth laughing like the devil that he was. I hate him. Maker take him. I hate him. I hate you Fendrel. I hate you more than you think I do. If he's gone to let me scream last night, that lot would have had killed us to pieces. It's midnight, for Maker's sake, and everyone's supposed to be sleeping. Yet I was there, standing so dumbly, because of him. Because of Fendrel. _

_ "What are you doing here, Seraphina?" he asked me so cluelessly, like the pack of air that he was. The traces of his stupid smile was still on his face, and never diminishing even when he said those words. _

_ "Looking for you, you fool." I replied, whispering. He noticed my fidgeting. When I looked back where I was watching, the Herald and her party had gone. They've vanished, like thin air. Just like that. They're gone. I frowned at Fendrel, it was his bloody fault after all. _

_ I told him mother was worried, and he snickered. I wager all my gold, the little that they are, that he's been with that Solas again. Fendrel never obeys, much to mother's heeding. Always. He laughed again, that bloke, before placing that skinny hand of his by the wall right beside me. He was smirking -- smirking! Right at me in that dark corner we were standing by, those lips of his all curved and scheming. His body was leaning closer, closer than I feel any comfort of, with his body all steamy from his sweat. I've got my back against the wall and it was cold, but I've got nothing against him. Nothing during that time. Maker what was he doing? It almost felt like something a lover would do. _

_ I've slept beside, slept on, and hugged Fendrel sometimes when I don't hate him -- but it was never like this. It felt weird and warm but he's never touched me yet, and my heart was all weird and beating fast. I asked him what naught was that he plotted and he laughed, louder, shaking his head and calling me stupid. The nerve! I told him he was a bigger idiot, and he only shook that silly head of his. After shaming me with the devil of the plot he tried, he leaned back and away from me, with his skinny arms all folded and scratchy. He told me I should never go about alone in the night -- the nerve of that man! -- I would never need to if he took his bloody arse home in time. _

_ Who in Maker's Earth fancies in chasing after an elf like that? Not me. He's my stupid brother. _

_ He had his eyes, those clear blue things, away the whole time he spoke to me like a child. How arrogant. I hate him. I hate how I have to take his bloody self home every night since we got here. What a pain. _

_ "Look, Seraphina, I've something to show you." Those were the exact words he's told me when he finally looked at me, those eyes of his glowing like a lake underneath moonlight. It's during the night when he really looks like the elf that he was, all shiny and glowing like a piece of silver. His hair was almost like snow -- yet silver like metal, short and kept, and if I knew better, I'd say he could pass as a fancy elf from them ancient times. _

_ Mother made sure he did not look like them Dalish, because knew what a piece of work those people are, and Fendrel's been through enough from dirty folks who called him many names. _

_ Anyways, that Fendrel did something, I swear, and I wish I knew what it was. _

_ All that I remember, that of my sleepy self, that he held his hands up. Like a cup. His fingers were all curled together. I told him he looked stupid, and he told me to keep watching. I did, rather obediently, and I stared at his hands for the long time I had. But before anything happened, mother's voice was out looking for us. I took too long -- we took too long. I looked at Fendrel and his hands were apart and back to his sides. But there was something strange about his fingertips, glittering almost, with green little bits of lights flying around his wrists. It was strange! I asked him what's wrong with his hands, he told me I was seeing things, and I told him he's still a big idiot. _

_ Now that it's the brink of morning, Fendrel's gone again. Now somewhere who knows where. I've caught a glimpse of the Solas man he hangs around with. He greeted me, rather politely, almost like he came from those old books about them elves. Solas is strange -- like most of the people around here. I asked him where my brother was, and he told me he did not know. I cursed the Maker of course, because if that fool never shows, I've to go find his sorry soul. Solas only chuckled, finding my petty anger to be his little entertainment. It's a struggle he'll never understand, because Fendrel... Fendrel makes my life a living hell. _

_ "Did Fendrel show you what he can do?" _

_ I told him I know nothing of what he's talking about, but I can't help thinking that it was that little stunt from last night with his hands. I swear to the Maker that his finger glowed, like magic -- green like the Breach. But Fendrel's told me I was just seeing things, and I'd like to believe him. I want to believe him. Solas, after what I told him, stopped with the questions. He's told me he was to go off into a side of the Frostbacks to sleep or something, I wish I heard him wrong. Who bloody sleeps in a patch of snow? I hope I heard him wrong. _

 

* * *

 

_ Ah! Look there, I see the Commander. He saw me looking. What a bloody handsome man.  _

 

* * *

 

_ Sorry for that pause, I had to hide in a safer place. I don't want no one seeing me with this diary. It's... It's too girly, and I don't want Fendrel finding this to taunt me. I've enough to deal with, and I've come to like writing here to you. It makes me feel better, a soothing better, someone to talk to and someone who understands me. Weird. You're just a piece of paper. This is the longest I've written yet.  _

 

* * *

 

  _I had to peek again. He's not looking anymore -- the Commander, I mean. He's by the footsteps of the Chantry, all in that fur and armour like he always is. He's got this angry look in his face, angrier than I've seen him when he's training those troops of his. Oh, look there now! He's pacing, slowly, quietly, not a word said. Nobody's bothering his like, and he's keeping his hands behind his back. I wonder what he's thinking? Probably the Herald. Whatever it is she's to do to Redcliffe after asking me, I've no doubt he's upset, They're mages after all and the Herald's a mage -- she's probably helped them away from that magister. If they need that sort of help, that is._

_ The blonde elf girl's been roaming about again. But now I've been more cautious, more alert, and more of everything. Them other refugees with the gossip say she's part of the Inquisition, a rogue -- 'A Friend of Red Jenny', they say -- who sits around that tavern when the Herald's not needing her for something. Apparently, she's been here a while, but how's it I've never seen her before? Nevermind, I don't want to see her. Not after knowing that she was reading while I was writing! That's embarrassing! Even if she's a girl too! _

_ Maker, what is that noise? I'm hiding behind the Healer's hut, writing, and I've just heard an uncomfortable sound. Moaning, I think. Soft, gentle, but the loud sort coming from the inside. It was mostly a woman's voice, breathing heavily along with a man's, and I could hear creaking at the stretch of the word, rocking back forth. What was going on? Ah, the window is undone. Maybe I could... _

 

* * *

 

_ Holy Maker, they're... They're having it in there! I -- she -- he, the healer! That Healer and some Chantry lady, all sprawled on bed. They're naked, of course, with their bodies all tangled in the sheets. She was under him, laying with her breasts outspoken and her cheeks flushed, with her arms pinned on the side by his grip. The Healer was on top of her, naturally, naked and hungry for activity. He thrusted in her like he needed it, with every rhythm of his hips made a rhythmic chorus with their voices. They moaned, softly, together and in pleasure -- wait, why am I writing like a bloody novelist? I'm not Varric. _

_ No, actually, why am I even telling you this rubbish? I don't want nothing from this place, and I don't want them to have my head! Although I don't reckon I'd see that Healer the same after seeing him jumping bedsheets with a Chantry lady. My body's all warm, sticky, and uncomfortable. I don't like it. The Frostbacks should be cold and weird, yet here I am, all sweaty like I'm in Lothering again. But for the wrong sort of reasons. _

 

* * *

 

_ Fendrel's found me, I don't know how and I don't bloody know why. He walked by like he was wandering the moonlight, so easily and so steadily into the back corner of the hut. When he found me, you could imagine how wide his face was . He was smiling, broadly, in a sort of way I don't like. It was his plotting smile, with one brow arch and his arms all crossed and interested. I hid the diary before he could see me, and because of that, I looked more like an idiot sitting there. I had no excuses, and so I was silent. _

_ "Just what are we doing here, Seraphina?" he whistled, a voice loud enough that I signed a hush. My eyes were wide and panicking, because his blasted voice was loud enough for the healer to hear. I slowly welcomed the Maker, this was it. We were dead. _

_ The healer seemed indifferent, as after a few minutes has passed, there was nothing. Just more of the disgusting sounds I've been hearing from that lot. The moaning grew louder, bolder, and more pronounced. I shuddered. _

_ That Fendrel's smile was gone now, and all that was left on his stupid face was curiosity. One full-bodied, plotting, and mischievous face that crawled by my side and sat there. He was hearing the noises from inside, the ones I've heard as they've gone loud, and because I had to hide you when that was happening -- my situation was looking worse and worse. That Fendrel's about to make an assumption I don't like, and surely, he's never going to let me forget this. Ever. _

_ "Just what are you up to?" he murmured against me, his fingers all tangled on a lock of my hair, his body hovering over mine. Unlike me, who was sitting well, he was kneeling by my side -- almost leaning -- closer, maybe closer from last night. He's getting real touchy lately, and I don't really know what to make of it. I frowned and slapped his arm, he only laughed and pulled away to my insistence. He looked up to the open window, curious to what I've been seeing. I had to stop him. _

_ "Don't do that!" I hissed, pulling his arm down to the ground to keep him from seeing. The moans weren't helping me, and even without looking, I'm sure that blasted elf knew what was going on. _

_ "Why not? You were looking." Fendrel scoffed at me, dusting himself as he wriggled from my grasps with ease. For a skinny guy, Fendrel could hold weight -- but he's only told me it's because my arms aren't that capable. That arrogant imp. He went back to looking, kneeling properly and carefully opening the window wider for him to see, and even without seeing his face completely, I could see a little smirk all carved up on his face, "Oh, you bad girl." _

_ "This is not what it looks like!" _

_ "Then, Seraphina, tell me what **does** it look like?" _

_ "...I'm just, I just... I'm just bloody sitting here, is that so wrong?" _

_ "Yes, underneath an open window with the Healer having his little fun." he snickered to himself, but he was still watching them, all with the fascination I had for a moment. Although his -- his was lingering, curious and fascinated, I wager probably more than the average. He was... Absorbing them? I don't know. I'm not so good with words sometimes. "A mighty fine spot." _

_ "Piss off." _

_ We were silent for a moment. A blank space where we were both silent, with him watching the Healer, and I shrinking in my own little hole. This was embarrassing -- even if it was just Fendrel. I suppose I never thought I would ever find myself in this situation, because right now, I'm supposed to be doing the chores. Mother must've gone mental by now, I've been gone too long and having Fendrel with me is doing me nothing of any good. But there's a nugget that's been bothering me a bit, about Fendrel and what he tried showing me last night. That Solas reminded me about it this morning, and to have such a sort of question like that meant whatever Fendrel wanted me to see was important. It was the best time to ask. _

_ "Fendrel?" _

_ "Hmm?" _

_ I, for a reason, did not know how to word the bloody question. Why was it so hard? Maybe it was awkward -- especially after this whole lot has happened and still was. "What were you suppose to make me see last night?" _

_ "Ah, forget about that." Fendrel rejecting a moment to brag? Impossible. I had to know. I was curious now. "It's not so special anyway and you missed your chance." _

_ "What do you mean? I want to know what it is!" I was frustrated and I was dragging his sleeve, and all in small little whispers of breath. At that moment, I forgot about the Healer and the whole scene. _

_ "No you don't." _

_ "Yes, I do." _

_ "No, you don't."  _

_ "Fine! Be that way, you bloody elf!" I wasn't going to argue over some petty thing, and he's told me it was nothing -- repeatedly, so I suppose it really was nothing. But it couldn't leave me, not after how that Solas was asking after it like he was curious to how I would feel. Why would it matter? Why would it matter so much that even that Solas knows about it? But Fendrel's never going to budge, and he's to keep like this to annoy the bits of me. Oh Maker.  _

_ We've sat there for a while, enough for me to realise how uncomfortable it was in the first place. I tried, a lot of times at that, to budge him out of his peeking before he's actually followed me. Fendrel following so easily was a rare thing -- maybe that's why father's always boxing his arms when he was naughtier years ago. He's a cheeky one, that blasted elf, and always doing what he wants when he can. Sometimes -- sometimes I wish I could be just like him, you know? All free and not afraid of the trouble, just going about into whatever lot he gets tangled into -- all them nice things.  _

_ I just... I... I'm too afraid. I can't be like that Fendrel. I'm not brave enough.  _

 

 


	5. The First Month, The Twenty-Sixth Day; Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for supporting Seraphina. Comments and kudos are appreciated.

* * *

 

Ambassador Montilyet,

I compliment your sharp skill in playing this game with me -- a week has passed and the documents are untouched! Yes, I've counted them, and my memory is sharper than you can imagine. With the nature of the Inquisition's ability to send any kind of force (such as those of Sister Nightingale's like, the brute force of the army, or, perhaps, the Inquisitor Trevelyan herself), my humble office is left at peace and undisturbed. In all honesty, your humble retreat unsettles me. Before you might ponder on thinking otherwise, I've decided to share some of these writings for your eyes only. Lady Avray has wrote to me of her confidence in you, and that having your involvement in my readings of her work does not bother her even the slightest. Her kindness, which is evident, is admirable.

But of course, in the end of it, I am still a man of my profession. So I have decided to periodically send you her "stray writings" -- pieces of Lady Avray's work that do not really reflect my intention with her work. During her earlier days of journal writing, she has not been very consistent in keeping an entry everyday and when she did -- they were of the most ordinary kind. They were dull reflections of her everyday, and even if having a more colourful description of her refugee lifestyle is tempting, she describes enough of it in her more interesting accounts. I, with full intention, do wish to publish this as what it is: her diary. However, along with that, I do wish to have these writings to also function as an informative piece that does not stray around too much. Thus, I will be taking out some entries to keep my compilation interesting and have these "stray writings" sent your way.

This will, of course, create gaps between dates. But I imagine the average reader will not mind so much, for people have always been a lover of tension and better drama.

Since you are, by far, retaining your formalities -- I will offer these documents in a similar fashion. I will be sending the first batch soon, which should not take more than a fortnight from here to Skyhold. These said entries would be the leftovers of the first month that I have no use of, as I figured that only a few selections from Lady Avray's first month is all I need to establish an introduction. They may not be the writings you were hoping to extract from me, but at least it should give you the impression of the subjects she tends to ponder on. Hopefully these can set your mind at ease. I send the Inquisitor my regards.

Editor Belmis

 

* * *

_**The First Month, The Twenty-Sixth Day;** **Haven**_

* * *

 

_He's done it. He's bloody done it._

_I've watched him closely, I swear at the Maker, every little movement those feet of his would take. From when he goes to that Solas and when he comes home, I would watch that damned man walk home with my eyes. But he's done it -- Fendrel's joined the Commander's army! The Commander, the person that he was, was always happy to take him in. Fendrel, that sly thing that he was, would crawl into the barracks and talk swords with the commander. For the time we were at Redcliffe, Fendrel's played sticks with the other boys just like in Lothering -- pretending to be like them soldiers without the metal on his chest. But now it's real, and he's to be stated for training tomorrow. Maker preserve me._

_Of course, as I write into this little bit, he's taking it from mother and father. They don't like it so much, not one bit, that Fendrel's off to be a soldier. We've spent years running away -- darkspawn, magic, all that lot, -- and now he's to risk his life after all that trouble. What were you thinking, Fendrel? Are you out of your bloody mind?_

 

* * *

 

_Ah, there goes the beating. Father's furious._

 

* * *

 

_I'm hiding, quietly, behind this little crate by the doors. My ink's gone streaky, and Fendrel being all beaten by father surprised me so much that my bottle's all spilled and blotchy._

 

* * *

 

_I've got ink on my lap. Fendrel's still inside. I wish I could close the windows. I don't want to hear this. I don't. It's painful._

 

* * *

 

_I'm away now. I've crawled out of the house without any of them noticing me gone, and now I'm sitting by Varric's campfire. He's gone now -- not dead, mind you -- but in that Chantry room where Fendrel's told me the big map is in. The Herald's gone back in the morning, and she's been gone for the longest time! More than two bloody weeks at that! But she has not come only with those people I saw her leave with, but with big group of mages! Those rebel mages! Grand Enchanter Fiona walked with her like they were friends for a long time, marching like an army of magical folks with all their staves dangling like sparkling stick on their backs._

_Seeker Pentaghast did not look so pleased with that face she had. I knew because it looked worse than her normal face, a lot worse. But she kept quiet, just like the clever woman that she was. She just watched the Herald with her eyes, her shoulders all tense and ready. It's her work to keep magic in touch, I wager she's looked into their every move. Scary mages, really. She's done it, she's sided with them._

_The Commander did not look too pleased. He stood on those stairs with a mighty frown on his face -- at least it looked like one to me. I just know these things, you know? Like a feeling, or an intuition of a sort. It's a bit weird to explain. But he was not happy, I swear to it. How can he, after the Herald just marching in with all the mages from Redcliffe in tow. Varric, before he went inside the Chantry, told me that Queen Anora's banished them mages away. They had it coming -- Tevinter magisters are a nasty name to have around. I imagine them high people aren't so happy with whatever's happened._

_But, if I should note to quickly, the Commander seemed a little bit more calm when the Herald entered the gates. I wager he feared something worse. Those eyes of his like to linger. That Commander looked almost relieved even with that bad face he had -- his face was all curved down, but his shoulders lowered enough for them furs to ruffle. If the Maker served my eyes right, he relaxed a bit -- just a nugget -- with his eyes all over the Herald like she was Andraste herself. There was a sort of admiration there, but she didn't seem to make note. The woman was all about her work, but from the last time I found to talk to her before she left, she's not so bad -- just a little stern on the face because she frowns a lot._  
  
_Maker's balls! The blonde elf girl found me, I've to run._

 

* * *

 

_Where's to hide? She's some damned bloody rogue after all, she can keep up. Why is she chasing me?_

 

* * *

 

_I've got to the garden, with by diary and my writing tool to boot. I've seemed to have lost her, for a while, but being out in the open was not really wise. I ran into a man, in my blasted sort of way, that same good looking man that left with the Herald when she went to get them mages. He was bigger now that I've seen him so close, all muscular and groomed from head to toe -- did I mention he's got this moustache? It's a rather exotic thing -- with the way it swirls at the edges like an expensive sort of thing. He's posh, I can tell, but never near the Orlesian like -- maybe even better. He had a way with himself, and as I stood in front of him all embarrassed, I could see some eyes looking our way all curious and that. They weren't looking at me, of course, I'm just a Lothering girl. They were looking at him, the mighty thing that he was. I felt my cheeks burn._

_I expected him to frown like all them high people do, kick me away and call me names with my peasant clothes and simple face. Those magisters in Redcliffe have done a fine lot of those things to us refugees, even then they insist that they're good for us. Cruel things. But you know what this man did? He laughed, a chuckle, with his arms all folded and his staff against his back. Nothing scheming or perverted, just a simple, amused laugh. I've nothing against that laugh, so I stood there and stuttered like the bloody girl I was. Maker's gave me nothing at that moment._

_"I... Sor-- Apol -- I'm -- Apologies... My Lord..." I said it, in some sort of way. Ridiculous in every touch. I hate myself sometimes. Praise that cheeky Maker for not having Fendrel around in sight._

_The handsome mage man only laughed more, louder, and every inch of my skin burned with every bit embarrassment known in Thedas. This was not going so well, no._

_"Apologies? I gather you should thank me for colliding into someone of my greatness." he smiled, all wide and striking. He was playing with me! All in praise of himself. He laughed again, by Andraste, I must look stupid! "Aren't you a charming one."_

_He was, even with considering the likes of the Herald, one of the strangest mages I've got to see in this life. That Herald and him made them Redcliffe mages -- even the Grand Enchanter -- look a slight dull in comparison. I blinked._

_"Running away from someone?" he arched a brow. It was not anything difficult to piece out what I've got myself in, and with his wit, my way of getting away from the blonde elf rogue was not a grand puzzle of sorts._

_"Was." I muttered, looking down on the ground with the diary behind me. I thought to hide it, even if poorly done, but that smart mage was quick in the eye._

_"What book are you reading?" he asked, bending sideways slightly, trying to catch a small peek of my diary. I turned, with my mind all cluttered, trying to get some book name in my head to sound a little smarter. This was a Lord after all. I knew he was some Lord or noble without even asking -- them high people have a look in themselves that made them seem important even without speaking their title. It's a weird thing, but it's true._

_"Erm... **In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar**..." I've no idea what that bloody book was about, but it's the first that came to my head because a travelling Chantry man with a boring book was weird. I saw that book tucked in a shelf at Redcliffe just before we ran away, and it was also the only other time I've ever got so bold in trying to be like Fendrel. I've never read them books -- just the titles, that small thought of the book not being as interesting as the title always got me feeling weird._

_"A work of a Chantry idealist." He's read it, I haven't. I nodded, even if I had no bloody clue what in the world I am nodding for. Maker save me, that book could be some dirty novel. "It's a decent perspective of Thedas as a whole, yet, it is also plagued with subtle bias of measured Chantry talk. It is, after all, from a Brother's perspective. He's a little harsh on the Imperium, but I can't help but think it is what it is... What's your name?"_

_I swallowed, here I go again with that name. "Seraphina."_

_Instead of some shite praise about how pretty it was, the mage gave me a weird look. His eyes were all narrow, watching me in places, his hand under his chin, "Ah, the Redcliffe girl. You don't like your name very much, do you? Dorian Pavus."_

_He understands._

_That bit of him that did not praise my stupid name got me, and I stared at the man, maybe a tad too much. If that blonde elf rogue never showed again, he'd find me so strange to stare. I ran away soon. Maker, help me._

 

* * *

 

_I found that Fendrel sitting on the ground when I came home._

_It was near evening, and he's a mess! Blood and bruises all over -- his hair all weird and lip cut in the middle. This was worse than what father would use to do, but that damned Fendrel didn't make it seem like it hurt. He was weird when I saw him, he didn't even want to talk. I tried, of course, though mother won't like it. She doesn't want me with Fendrel when father's got him right, but I talk to him. Man's a tosser, but I can't help but care._

_"Hey." I said to him, sitting on the ground._

_"Go away, Seraphina." A dodgy way to keep me off his hair, and it didn't work. He was playing with some rock._

_"Fendrel."_

_"I don't need you telling me what father just said."_

_Maker, I don't know what he was arsing about. Yes, he might be right a little, but I'm having none of his bollocks. None of it! Here's the weirder part, alright, he went on about something I was not much sure what it meant:_

_"Fendrel." I said again, as I have told you, I was to have none of his little fits. He doesn't have it so much, these fits, they were rare things. "Father just cares -- mother cares -- and I care. I'm your sister."_

_He laughed, loudly. The blighted fool laughed like he was mad. It wasn't like the laugh I would hear for it was empty,  and his eyes had none of that sparkle that would've made me box his face. That Fendrel he... He's in a dark place. I don't got no words to say it in other ways._

_"Go away, Seraphina." he told me again, he sounded so serious that I felt cold. Scared. my heart beating in all the places I could feel it. When I didn't go, the bastard stood up instead. "I was never your brother."_

_What sort of rubbish was he talking about? Of course he was my brother. He always has been my entire life! That strange Fendrel. I didn't chase him, as you can see, I was not going to play his little game. He's playing with me and I know it._


End file.
